Digging Up the Past
by QuidditchPlayer
Summary: 43 year old Detective David Cunningham is put on an investigation for the first time in almost a year. David is excited about it but finds it strange that the murder occurred 22 years ago and why it seems it has too many holes in it.
1. Prologue

**Digging Up the Past - Prologue**

I leaned my back against my black office chair, looking above to see a wide open sky. It felt as if I was outside, free as a bird. I would imagine being anywhere else than the IMC (Investigating Mysteries Corporation) Main Headquarters. The only place I wouldn't imagine was the gates of hell because I would always picture an IMC building just beyond the blood red graveyard that served as a front lawn within the gates of hell.

It wasn't that the IMC buildings weren't clean or that the people weren't nice; it was just that I wasn't cut out for staying indoors and making copies all day long. I was a man of action, and god damn it, I will be until the day I lie in the soil with a rugged stone marking my territory!

The white computer monitor was showing the computer's default screen saver (the logo of the company that made it rotating) which gave me headaches after watching it for ten minutes straight. I was bored.

It's not like I had nothing to do. In fact, I had to prepare for a presentation in about an hour on "Weapon Safety: Where to Place Weapons and Why". It was the last thing I wanted to do that day. Someone up there in heaven must have heard me because, little did I know, my life was about to change.


	2. Chapter 1

**Digging Up the Past – Chapter One**

I was walking down a wide corridor on the top floor – the floor my office was on. It was quite crowded with people on cell phones, computers and people just chatting about their lives at home or the sports game that was on the night before.

I had never been too interested in sports so I could care less who had made it into the playoffs or not or who won the championship. But the other men in the building did, so I'd get the information anyway.

I was walking to the elevator to go to the thirteenth floor (I was currently on the thirty-second floor) when a grouchy voice rang out from behind me. "Davy! Wait!" it cried and I immediately knew who it was. I turned around to see an older man in his mid fifties, racing down the long corridor in his wheel chair.

"I'm so glad I caught you," the man said huffing and puffing from pushing the wheels of his wheel chair with his arms. It certainly looked like a lot of work.

"Hey, Jimmy," I said to my boss, shaking his hand. He was bald and in a black suit with a red tie and nice black pants. He wore glasses with circular frames, unlike the ones with the more rectangular or oval-shaped frames.

"Hi," he was still out of breath "Come with me to my office. I have some urgent news."

"I have a presentation though," I said reluctantly. I would do anything to go to his office and talk for an hour instead of doing that stupid presentation, but the George Henry, the Owner of IMC, had ordered me to do this presentation and George was superior to Jimmy.

"Never mind that, this is urgent." he said. I shrugged and went along with him, wondering what was so urgent that he'd excuse me from George Henry's directions.


	3. Chapter 2

**Digging Up the Past – Chapter Two**

I walked along side Jimmy Mays who sped through the hallway in his wheel chair. Sometimes I felt bad for him for he wasn't able to walk, but I would never tell him this, not yet anyway. Knowing Jimmy, he would jam his fist down my throat and choke me to death – that's the kind of guy I had to work for.

We took a right down a narrow hallway that disabled us of walking side-by-side as Jimmy's wheel chair took up most of the hallway. I fell in behind him and soon enough we arrived at a brown door with blurry glass on the window so people were not allowed to spy on Jimmy. All of the office doors had this though; it made it more private which could prove to be a good thing but also a bad thing.

I opened the door for him, seeing that he was struggling in doing so. We walked – or in Jimmy's case, rolled – into the office. Jimmy wheeled around to his desk and sat in his chair as if it were my black leather office chair. He leaned forward as I took a seat in a metal folding chair that was cushioned by red-hard-pillow-like pads.

"Now, you'll be excited about this," he started which instantly grabbed all of my attention. It even drained out the obnoxious air conditioner that I had told Jimmy a countless number of times to replace but he had always refused. "You've been here five-days-a-week-nine-to-five for the past, what? Three months?" I nodded even though it had been way, way longer than that. "Well, that's a long stretch of time sitting in an office for you. So, you're going out on a top secret investigation. What do you think of that?" He leaned back now, smirking, looking for a joyful expression which we both knew he would soon get.

"Details?" I asked in a serious tone even though my insides were about to burst with relief. I was getting ready to kill myself if I was not put on an investigation in the next week. I couldn't stand indoors for that long.

"Let's go back twenty-two years ago…" he started before I cut him off.

"Twenty-two years ago?" I asked, shocked. Usually, investigations took place within a day or two of a crime – And that was if investigators were overloaded with investigations.

He waited a minute, staring right into my shaken eyes. It seemed as if two minutes of silence went by before he finally said "Let's just say an investigator was part of this scandal and reported the wrong information."

"But if it were twenty-two years ago, why would it matter now?" I asked.

"This criminal is still on the loose, sadly." He said, not even waiting a millisecond after I asked to answer.

"What's his name?" I asked.

"James Mason," he answered "However that will only come in handy later."

"What was the crime?" I asked.

"A murder of a woman. The reported name was Mary Bates but the reported information is un-reliable," he said "It took place in Brooklyn, New York. You can easily find someone there who knows something about it."

"Okay," I said, seeing that this was all the information he had "Thank you."

"Oh, Davy," he said just as I left the room. I poked my head back in through the narrow gap of the door. "James Mason is a Dodgers fan." with that, he winked at me and sent me off. Destination: Brooklyn, New York.


	4. Chapter 3

**Digging Up the Past – Chapter Three**

I carpooled with Derek Thomson, my good friend since high school, and his friend Alex Jacobs. He had to go to the airport too, so Derek picked me up too. His knew Chevy was very convenient as it was able to carry all of my luggage in the trunk. It was a normal, everyday drive on the highway to the airport.

Derek was, and always will be, a very energetic person. You would have guessed that he drinks five cups of coffee every hour but, the truth was, he stayed away from caffeine. I always wondered why he was so hyper.

Alex, on the other hand, was rather laid back. Derek had told me how they worked together for five years, doing paperwork for a radio station. Alex now ran a business of his own, but he and Derek remained friends.

Alex and I went our separate ways when we got to security (me getting through within seconds after showing them my badge which made me eligible to carry a gun with me).

I picked up "The New York Times" Newspaper that sat on an empty seat in the boarding waiting room. I picked it up and read it, knowing that little news stories had proved useful in past investigations. My theory had proved very useful. The New York Yankees were hosting the Los Angeles Dodgers that day and then the night after. I would simply stay a night in The Bronx, catch the game, maybe find this James Mason or some information on him, and then head to Brooklyn.

But Yankee Stadium is huge. How am I suppose to find him or even someone who knows him? I whipped out my cell phone to call Jimmy but wasn't surprised when there wasn't an answer as he rarely had his cell phone with him. I decided to call his office and was told he was out of the office by the secretary.

I found the nearest restroom to check the wound that locked me up in my office for almost a year. It occurred on my last case. I had found the suspect and had chased after him. He was a famous drug dealer in Mexico – famous for killing his customers who backed out of deals – who had illegally crossed the border and killed an innocent man. I chased him all over New Mexico and one day I cornered him. He turned around, wielding a knife. I had pulled out my gun and as I did, he charged. I shot and the pulled nicked his ear. Blood started to pour out but it didn't stop him. He stabbed me in my left hip and he got away.

It's stitched up now, but swells up every so often and I've been told a number of times to get it checked out but I always refused. I can't stand hospitals or doctor's offices even though part of my job is talking to victims – who more times than not - are hospitalized.

I find it swollen but don't think anything of it. Why do I always check it if I don't seem to give a damn? Good question. Let me know if you find the answer. I exit the restroom to hear the boarding call for my flight. I grab my laptop case and board. I take my seat by the window in the 16th row. Somebody sits to my left. He doesn't introduce himself. After the airplane is level, and we're allowed to take out electronics he whips out his laptop and opens up a word document.

I glance at the word document a minute later to find it saying this:

_James Mason_

_Dodgers 4, Tigers 8_

_The L.A. Dodgers fall to the Detroit Tigers. Derek Lowe pitched just two innings and gave up seven runs. He is scheduled to start tonight against the Yankees as tonight's scheduled pitcher Brad Penny took over in the third inning last night._

He's a sports writer for the Dodgers! He's on his way to the game! This has to be him! I try to hid me excitement and fear as it's a very strong possibility that a murderer is sitting next to me.


End file.
